


Ottery St Catchpole

by iceprinceofbelair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Implied Child Abuse, Weasley Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:31:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6085068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceprinceofbelair/pseuds/iceprinceofbelair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Weasley twins spot a small boy in the village of Ottery St Catchpole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ottery St Catchpole

**Author's Note:**

> This was thrown together in a bit of a hurry (my lecture was really dull) so apologies for mistakes but I have to rush off to my next class and I wanted to post it before I did!

“Fred! George!”

Molly stood at the foot of the stairs, peering up towards the bedrooms of the Burrow. She heard footsteps and, moments later, saw two identical freckled faces peer over the landing of the second floor. Before they could utter something in unison, she said, “Pop into the village for me and get some bruise salve. Ginny’s had an accident with a gnome.”

Fred sighed dramatically.

“Why can’t Percy go?” He whined.

“Percy’s busy.”

“But-“

“You boys get yourselves down to the village right now or you won’t see another broomstick until you go to Hogwarts,” Molly threatened.

The twins were by her side in an instant, accepting two silver sickles. Before she could even tell them to wrap up warm, the kitchen door swung shut behind them. She watched them go worriedly. Perhaps she should have sent Percy after all. But they’d be off to Hogwarts soon enough. They needed to learn to be more responsible.

~

Fred waited outside  _ Bernadette’s Balsam Boutique _ impatiently. Ever since the incident with the muggle baby, they weren’t allowed to go in together. Fred still thought this was highly unfair. After all, they hadn’t  _ meant  _ to make the jars  _ explode _ .

Whatever was going on, George was taking forever. Fred slumped to the ground in boredom, earning a disgruntled harrumph from a passing man who narrowly avoided tripping over him.

Ottery St Catchpole wasn’t a busy village. It was the sort of place where everybody knew one another and their granny because they’d gone to school together. It was predominantly a muggle village but it had many wizarding roots and nearly every shop owner had magical heritage of some kind or another (with the exception of Mr Harris on the corner of Market Street who was oblivious to the strange goings on in his village and sold only tools for muggle DIY.)

So it came as a surprise to Fred to see a child he’d never seen before skulking around the bins across the cobbled street. The boy was young with broken glasses sliding down his nose and clothes which were easily ten sizes too large for his skinny frame. He didn’t wear shoes and had only one sock which slipped around on his small foot. It appeared he hadn’t yet noticed Fred’s eyes upon him.

Fred watched sadly as the boy dug through the bins unashamedly as though this was merely the way of things. He rummaged around for a moment longer before producing a silver can and what looked to be a crisp packet.

George exited the shop noisily just then and tripped over Fred immediately, landing awkwardly on one hand to save the bruise salve from breaking.

“Feeling a bit down in the dumps, Fred?” George chuckled as he scrambled to gather the bronze knuts which had rolled from his pocket during the fall. But Fred wasn’t paying attention – he was too busy gazing at the spot where the boy had been.

“Fred?”

George followed his brother’s gaze.

“I saw a boy,” Fred said quietly. “He looked hungry.”

George didn’t have to ask how hungry. “We should bring him home with us,” he said immediately, making his way over to the bins without delay. Fred hurried after him but, just as he’d feared, the child was nowhere in sight.

George looked down at the knuts in his hand thoughtfully. 

As they headed for home, the child reappeared. They didn’t see him take the bread and fruit they’d left for him but they knew it was gone when they went back.

~

“Terrible news,” they heard Arthur muttering to his wife late that night. Neither had been able to sleep after Fred’s encounter – if it could be called such – with the child in the village so they sat on the first floor, listening to their parents’ hushed conversation.

“You-Know-Who still has followers out there, Arthur,” said Molly fearfully.  “Suppose-“

“Don’t think like that,” Arthur said quietly. He murmured something the twins couldn’t hear. George thoughts vaguely that they should invent something which would amplify a conversation so they could snoop more easily and made a mental note to speak to Fred about it later.

“I can’t bear the thought,” Molly whimpered. “I hope they find him in time. Poor dear.”

Arthur sighed heavily. “I just worry what will happen to him when they do find him. Those muggles are the worst sort.”

“Surely they won’t send him back?”

“That’s Dumbledore’s choice.”

Molly huffed, “Dumbledore needs a wand up the-”

“Molly!”

George snickered. Fred dug an elbow into his ribs.

“Dumbledore is a great wizard…” Arthur began but Molly was too quick for him.

“If he was such a great wizard, Harry Potter would never have gone missing in the first place.”

Fred and George exchange shocked looks. Fred thinks back to the boy in the village and his breath catches. Without bothering to be quiet, he sprints back to their room and tugs  _ A History of Magic _ from the bookshelf. He skips to the chapter covering the Twentieth Century.

James Potter’s face stares back at him – bedraggled dark hair and round glasses. Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who seven years ago. The boy in the village looked maybe a smidge too young but it wasn’t impossible.

He looked back up at George whose shocked look told Fred everything.

Merlin’s beard. They’d found Harry Potter.

“What are you buys doing up?” Arthur said from the doorway. The twins turned to him and one look at their faces threw their father off guard. “What? What is it?”

Fred and George glanced at one another before saying together, “We know where Harry Potter is.”

~

“Are you sure it was here you saw him?”

Arthur and the twins were standing by the bins just across the street from Bernadette’s shop but there was no sign of Harry Potter.

“Positive,” said Fred.

“We should have brought him home,” said George.

“When we had the chance,” Fred agreed.

Arthur turned to his sons. “It’s not your fault, boys. Be glad you saw him at all. At least we know where to start looking.”

Fred shivered.

“In the morning, though,” Arthur added, noticing. “Let’s get back-“

“No!” The twins all but yelled.

“Dad, you didn’t see him,” said Fred.

“He’ll freeze out here.”

“We have to find him.”

“Now.”

Arthur looked at the boys’ determined faces and sighed. “Your mother is going to kill me.”

~

So, they searched. They were careful about calling Harry’s name. It would be all too easy for a nosy witch or wizard to overhear through an open window and Harry’s disappearance wasn’t public knowledge yet. It wasn’t safe.

Hours passed but Arthur could not get his sons home for love nor money. He couldn’t honestly say he’d been trying particularly hard. If Harry Potter really was in Ottery St Catchpole, they couldn’t afford to let him slip through their fingers. 

It was Fred who finally found him. They’d split up twenty minutes previously – though Arthur was less than thrilled about the idea – and Fred had insisted on staying nearby the bins in case the child returned.

And return he did.

They spotted one another at the same time and the small boy froze beneath Fred’s stare. Fred took in his ramshackle appearance, struggling to think over the pounding of his heart. Mouth dry, he whispered, “Harry?”

The boy’s eyes widened in surprise but he didn’t run. Fred tried to make himself smaller instinctively.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We want to help.”

Harry took a step back, preparing to run. Fred noticed he’d lost his sock and was now barefoot. He shivered sympathetically.

“My mum is really good at warming spells,” said Fred. “She’ll make sure you’re warm. And we have food at home. Will you come with us?”

Harry looked uncertain. “Us?” he asked softly.

Fred smiled. “My dad and my brother are in the village too. We’re looking for you. Lots of people have been looking for you since you went missing.”

At these words, Harry’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry!” He said quickly, sounding panicked. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. Don’t be angry.”

“Fred?”

Arthur appeared behind Fred and saw the scene before him.

“My word,” he breathed. “Harry, is that you?”

Harry looked terrified. Acting instinctively, Fred darted forwards and quickly caught his arm so he couldn’t run. The child’s panic was immediate – he tried to wriggle out of Fred’s grip, eyes wide, breathing fast. Fred held on tight. Arthur didn’t move until Harry had calmed a little.

“We won’t hurt you,” Fred kept saying. “It’s okay. We won’t hurt you.”

George had arrived now too.

“Hi Harry,” he said kindly. “Don’t be scared. We won’t hurt you.”

Clearly overwhelmed, Harry threw himself at Fred and clamped his arms around his neck. Startled, Fred hugged him uncertainly. He glanced up at his father who smiled with relief. Harry’s hair had fallen back to reveal a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. It was him. He was safe.

“Come on, Harry,” Arthur said gently. “There’s a nice warm bed waiting for you back at our house. It’s not far.”

He stretched a hand towards Harry who shied away, reaching instead for Fred’s hand. Arthur nodded and set off back towards the Burrow.

George took Harry’s other hand.

(By the time they were halfway there, Harry was falling asleep and let Arthur scoop him up into his arms without complaint.)

~

Molly was frantically scrubbing the kitchen table when they finally arrived back. Rushing towards the front door, she said, “Did you find him? Is he alright? Oh-“

She stopped, seeing Harry curled up in her husband’s arms. He was so small. His toes and fingers were tinged blue with the cold and his pale face had splashings of red in the cheeks. Wordlessly, Molly cast a warming charm over the small boy and placed a motherly hand on his back. He slept on.

“Poor dear,” she whispered. “He’s frozen stiff.” 

At this, she glanced over his husband’s shoulder and noticed the twins as though for the first time. “Oh, boys,” she breathed, pulling them close to her. For once, they didn’t protest. “Thank goodness you’re both alright. And Harry, of course. If you boys hadn’t found him…”

Molly left her sentence unfinished but her next words hung in the air all the same. Regaining herself, Molly held out her arms for the child, receiving him with practiced ease. He didn’t even stir.

“He can sleep in our room,” Fred said quietly.

“Me and Fred can share,” George added.

Molly smiled proudly. Her boys may be troublemakers but they’d been raised right.

“Speaking of which,” she said briskly. “Off to bed. Both of you.”

The twins shot each other mischievous grins and clambered upstairs without so much as a whisper of protest. Any other day, Molly might have been suspicious but she knew the twins well enough to see that they understood the seriousness of the circumstances. They knew when to tone themselves down.

When she followed them upstairs with Harry in her arms a few minutes later, she found them burrowed under Fred’s duvet, talking in hushed whispers which stopped as soon as she entered the room. They smiled at her innocently. 

“We’re taking it in turns,” Fred said immediately.

Molly hummed questioningly, only half listening as she transfigured Harry’s clothes - if such rags could be called clothes - into pyjamas and laid him gently on the bed. He moaned softly for a moment and twitched in his sleep but, thankfully, he did not wake.

“An hour each,” George added.

Molly turned to them. What on earth…

“Watching over him, that is,” Fred chimed in.

She sighed, realising what scheme they had concocted. “Boys…”

But, for once, they didn’t let her even begin to talk them out of it. That was one thing which could be said for Fred and George - once they set their sights on something (or someone, in this case) they would not be dissuaded. Molly supposed it must help having the pair of them stick up for each other. It was easier to get in trouble with others than alone, she supposed. After all, Fabian and Gideon had been much the same.

“We’re watching over him,” Fred said again, more firmly this time.

“I’ll sleep first,” George added.

“I’ll keep watch,” Fred continued.

“And then we switch,” they finished together.

Molly smiled. “Alright. If you’re dead set on it, I suppose there’s nothing I can say to make you change your minds?”

They said nothing but their identical expressions of unwavering resolve was answer enough.

~

Harry only woke once and even then only briefly. 

It was during Fred’s second shift. The child made no noise - not even a whimper - and Fred wouldn’t have known he was awake at all had he not tried to bolt for the door. Desperately, Fred willed the door not to open.

It didn’t.

Harry’s panic grew greater as he pushed and pulled at the door handle frantically. Fred felt his heart ache for him.

“Harry?” He said gently and the boy spun on his heel so fast Fred worried he might topple over. The fear in his eyes was heartbreaking. “Hey, Harry,” he said, nudging his twin awake. “Remember us?”

George moaned groggily and sat up, blinking blearily. When he saw Harry out of bed, he became more alert. Harry looked ready to burst into tears but was making a valiant effort to hold it in.

“You’re in our room, kid,” George whispered, voice hoarse. “It’s okay. We won’t hurt you.”

Harry’s body relaxed a little though his eyes retained their wary look.

Fred smiled kindly. “Hungry?” He asked.

Harry’s hand flew to his stomach and he looked torn as though he thought it might be a trick question. To put him at ease, Fred said, “I am. What about you, George?”

“I could eat,” George said, catching on.

They climbed out of bed and Fred reached out his hand for Harry to take. Hesitantly, and with no small measure of panic, Harry’s thin fingers curled around Fred’s and Fred gave them a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” he said. “There’s food downstairs.” 

~

Once Harry had eaten his fill - hesitantly and with a great deal of encouragement - the twins took him back upstairs. Harry was reluctant to let go of Fred’s hand. So, George pushed the two beds together and they settled down with Harry between them, Fred’s arm slung loosely across Harry’s stomach. George let his cheek rest atop Harry’s hair.

That was how Molly found them just after sunrise the next morning. She let them sleep.


End file.
